Making a Statement
by pandora1017
Summary: What Christian *wanted* to say when he wasn't saying anything...
1. [1/3]

Title: "Making a Statement"  
Author: pandora1017  
Rating: PG-13  
Content: Language

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these guys. If I did, they'd never have had to be vampires. Except maybe Gangrel. Of course, if I owned him, he'd never have gotten anywhere near Edge, Christian, or the Hardys to begin with. He actually would probably be locked in a little tiny box and only let out to be beaten with a bamboo stick. Or, even better, remember the part with Hitler in Little Nicky? That was a good movie. But I digress.

Comments: This is kinda an answer to a unofficial challenge to make Gangrel a 'badass meanie.' I think the only reason I can attempt this is because I didn't watch wrestling when he was a major player. Was he ever a major player? Do you get the idea that I don't like Gangrel? He's almost as bad as Shane-O... [Joking, Amanda. No one can be as bad a Shane-O. ;)]

. 

"Look, Edge, I don't trust him and neither should you. He's an psychopathic gearbox who thinks he's a vampire and seems to have gotten you to think the same thing. You do realize that that's koolaid he's holding in that chalice, right? Look at me, I won the light-heavyweight title without him. What has he gotten us? We don't need him. Let's ditch him before it gets too late and go it alone."

Well, that was easy. I smiled. And my reflection agreed with me. Of course, saying that to my headstrong big brother would be near impossible. The mirror was a good listener, but Edge wouldn't agree that readily. Gangrel had somehow managed to sucker... uh, I mean, charm him into being friends with him, and he practically worshipped the ground 'Grel walked on. That blew my mind. Gangrel wasn't exactly the most charming person around. How had he convinced Edge to let him mentor him? If I had been there when Edge met 'Grel, we would have laughed our asses off and walked away.

"Who are you talking to, child?"

And that. That goth-talk shit. Goddammit, Edge, if you weren't my brother I'd kill you for making me deal with this bloated asshole. I looked at his reflection in the mirror as he entered the locker room bathroom, randomly recalling some memory about vampires not having reflections. I repressed a snort.

"No one."

"But you were speaking."

"Not to you," I informed him flippantly.

Gangrel's eyes lowered to slits as he glared at me. "You're lucky your brother values you as he does, otherwise I would have gotten rid of you long ago."

"You and what army?" I muttered under my breath as he turned to leave.

I turned away from him at the same time and twisted a knob on the sink to run the hot water. Before I got a chance to use it, though, a strong force slammed me up against the wall next to the sink as a hand simultaneously gripped my throat. Gangrel was much closer to me than I cared for him to be, but my primary concern at the moment was getting air into my lungs. I clawed at his wrist, trying to make him let me go, as he growled, "Don't try me, boy, I will win."

And just like that, he dropped me and left. I sank to the floor, wheezing and massaging the grip marks on my throat. I hated it when he did that.

"Hey, 'Grel," I heard my brother purr from the locker room in that weird voice he used around Gangrel. I waited in vain for him to switch back to normal and call 'Grel a 'dork chop.' That was not going to happen. "What was that noise?"

"I think your brother slipped," Gangrel answered. I could almost hear him smirking. Scowling, I got to my feet. Edge would be in here in a minute and I didn't want him to find me on my ass.

"Christian?" he called as he stepped through the doorway. That was another thing. When was the last time he called me Chris? He used to all the time... Granted, I hated it when he did call me that, but right now I wouldn't have minded in the least.

"Yeah?" I asked as I brushed myself off. Edge smirked slightly when he saw me.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, don't ask," I muttered, turning off the water. I figured it might be hard to convince Edge to join me and ditch Gangrel if he knew 'Grel was beating the hell out of me every other day. And fighting back wasn't an option either, that would make Edge align further with him and possibly push me right out of the picture. Well, physically fighting back wasn't an option yet, at least. There were other ways of fighting back. "What are we doing tonight?"

"'Grel and I are fighting the New Age Outlaws."

"You and Gangrel?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Edge said, curiously. "Why?"

"Nothing," I muttered, repressing angry commentary. I found myself doing that a lot anymore. I was afraid I'd say something that would drive Edge right to Gangrel if I went off on a tirade. Another thing Edge seemed to miss - I'd changed from the outspoken brother he'd known for twenty five years into a mute recently. No questions asked. So here he was, challenging the tag team champions with... Gangrel? What the hell happened to brotherhood? Don't press it, Christian, Edge won't stand a chance with 'Grel in his corner anyway. What a wasted title-shot. "I meant after the match."

"Oh, I don't know. Go out with 'Grel, I guess."

"Again?"

"Yes, aga-... What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking maybe we could change it up sometimes. Why don't we try to hang out with some other people? What about those new kids... what're their names... Matt and Jeff?"

"You said it yourself, Christian. They're new kids," he scoffed. "'Grel is experienced, he knows what he's talking about. We can learn a lot from him."

"Experienced? When was the last time he held a title?"

"Well, it's not -"

"You've held more titles than he has. **I've** held more titles than he has. Hell, those Hardys have held more titles than he has. And we're all at one a piece."

"That doesn't matter, he's been here for -"

"Edge, it doesn't matter how long he's been here. We're not going to get anywhere by doing old shit. We have to make our own mark, do things our way. Not his."

"You don't like how I do things?" I cringed, annoyed, as Gangrel stepped up behind Edge.

"This was a private conversation," I said, matter-of-factly.

"About me, yes, so I'm intervening. Come, Edge, it's time for our match."

Edge watched 'Grel and my battle of words blankly, reminding me of a confused child and renewing my desire to get him away from Gangrel as soon as possible. When Gangrel beckoned, Edge first followed, but hesitated and turned back to me. "You coming, Christian?"

"You want me to?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course."

I cast a glance to Gangrel, who was rolling his eyes as Edge showed one of his less and less frequent displays of human emotion. The fact that Gangrel didn't want me there sealed my decision and I followed Edge. He grinned at me and clapped me on the back as I caught up to those two. Obviously, as I had expected, nothing I had just said had phased him. 'Grel, on the other hand, glowered at me while Edge wasn't looking. And we made our way to the ring.

-

That was intentional and I knew it. Fucking 'Grel "attempted a baseball slide" on Road Dogg, but Road Dogg - who was neither woozy nor distracted - was fully capable of stepping out of the way to leave me open to Gangrel's boot sandwich. Fuck, I was surprised I still had all my teeth in place. Not only that, but while 'Grel was pretending to see how I was doing - he was actually just smirking at me - Mr. Takes It Up The Ass hit the Fame-Ass-Er on Edge and pinned him.

And that was that. 'Grel took the loss pretty well. He wasn't that bothered by yet another title slipping through his hands. Maybe he was jaded to losses. Or maybe he was more intent on kicking me in the face than winning the match. Edge, however, was dragging. He rolled out of the ring after a minute, found me on the ground, and we supported each other back in silence. Silence and straight face typical of me - not quite him. Edge tended to smile alot. Not the nice, fun smile he used to wear, but a freaky, psychotic looking cross between a smirk and a grin. But even that was lacking now. I think he was tired of losing. We parted the curtains and stumbled backstage. Once we were backstage, 'Grel took off abruptly towards the locker room. Making certain no one was around, I tried to talk to my brother again. "Look, Edge -"

"Can it wait, Christian?" he sighed. "I need to go apologize to 'Grel for losing."

With that, he pushed off me and started to follow that backstabbing son of a bitch to the locker room. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists as I watched him go, bottling up an earsplitting scream and list of explicitives. As if to break my mood, I heard laughter behind me. Of course, it wasn't to break my mood - it was to fuel it. I turned and found Billy Gunn, Road Dogg, X-Pac, and Triple H watching me.

"Got somethin' t'say?" Road Dogg smirked, mocking my silence. Now was not the time to singlehandedly attack a group of four, I realized after I silently dove at Road Dogg. It almost seemed like slow motion, watching Billy, X-Pac, and Triple H join in the fight. It took at least seven officials to break up the impromptu match. As the officials scraped me off the ground, I tried to figure out why I had attacked them. Frustration, I decided, jerking myself from the caring grip of the refs only to stumble with weak steps. I was getting really fucking frustrated with Gangrel. I didn't know how much longer I could let this shit go on.


	2. [2/3]

It was all happening so fast I could hardly keep up. I was kicked in the stomach and bent over involuntarily from the pain. From there I felt an arm wrap around my neck, heard a triumphant battle cry, then, with a twist and a slam, I was on my back, trying to make sure my neck wasn't broken. Without warning, the noise level in the arena rose and I opened my eyes just in time to see a spinning body in flight seconds before it's spine connected painfully perpendicularly with my sternum.

It was over now, I realized, reeling in pain. Pin me - one, two, three. The body that had just fallen from almost four feet in the air didn't remain on me long - he rolled away and his brother dropped down for the pin. It was a loose pin - he was tired, too - but I was too exhausted to kick out. I felt hands on my boot, however, and I was gruffly pulled from under the elder Hardy before a three count. A little too gruffly, if you ask me, because the pull not only broke the pin but also bodily dragged me out of the ring and I fell flat on my back on the concrete. Overkill, thy name is Gangrel. Before he could strike again, Doc Hendrix came to my rescue. He was most likely more upset that Gangrel had just cost his proteges the match and not that Gangrel was senselessly abusing me, but either way I was left alone long enough to crawl to my knees, wheezing, to peer over the ring apron.

Well, that was unpleasant, too. I got up just in time to see the darker Hardy hit a Northern Lights suplex into a pin on Edge and watch the ref drop his hand three times. Done. I crawled back into the ring as the Hardys celebrated and went to check on Edge who hadn't moved yet.

"Edge?" I whispered, kneeling next to his head, my mouth close to his ear. His chest was rising and falling deeply because he was winded.

"This sucks," he muttered, almost causing me to smile.

"Are you going to lie there all day?" An angry voice growled. That quickly changed my mind about smiling and I looked up to 'Grel. There he stood, having put his sunglasses back on as if to further display how comfortable he was, towering over Edge and I who were sweating, exhausted, and defeated. I looked back down to Edge with a grimace, but instead of arguing he used energy that I couldn't even imagine where he was hiding and got up to follow Gangrel - who was already leaving. Despite an urge to yell for Edge to not move, I once again held my tounge, regained my composure, then grudgingly got up to follow them.

Once backstage, we walked in silence towards the locker room, Edge and I side-by-side following Gangrel. It was a good thing that neither of them were watching me or they would have seen the daggers in my eyes at Gangrel. It wasn't even a matter of winning or losing anymore, Gangrel was **attacking** me. What, was he trying to fight me for Edge? Did he think that he could make me leave Edge that easily? Fuck you, 'Grel, blood is thicker than kool-aid.

"Hey, good match, guys."

I stopped for a second and turned to the speaker. The older Hardy brother, Matt, smiled at me then took a drink from a bottle of water which he passed to his little brother. I would have smiled back, I'm sure, if I wasn't about to rip someone's head off. Instead, I just watched him blankly before turning to catch up with Edge and 'Grel who hadn't even stopped long enough to acknowledge Matt's hospitality.

"Those guys are kinda weird," I heard Jeff tell Matt quietly.

"Like y' have room t' talk," Matt shot back with a slight laugh. I tried to wall off the corner of my mind that was trying to drudge up memories of when Edge and I used to play around like that. Unsuccessful. I looked bitterly between Edge and Gangrel, unsure of who was to really blame for his change, as we entered the locker room and found our respective bags. A nice shower would cool me off, I hoped. And I don't mean physically.

Before I found the showers, though, Gangrel loudly zipped his bag shut and hefted it on his shoulder. Edge and I both turned slowly as he walked to the door.

"You're leaving?" Edge asked, genuinely surprised.

"Let me know when you're ready to be serious about this."

"'Grel, I..."

Edge looked positively crushed as the door shut. I watched silently, then turned back to my bag before throwing out, "It's better this way, really..."

"What?" Edge turned to me, blankly. He wasn't asking for clarification, he was asking for repetition. Christ, he hadn't even been listening to me.

"It's better this way," I repeated, louder. "Him being gone."

"He thinks I'm a terrible wrestler. I **am** a terrible wrestler. I shouldn't have lost."

"I don't think that was your fault," I said, turning to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after 'Grel took me out of the match, who was supposed to help you?"

"He took you out of the match?"

"You didn't see that?" I asked, incredulous.

"See what?"

"After Jeff hit the Swanton on me, Matt went for a cover but Gangrel pulled me out of the ring."

"Well, he was trying to help. Break the pin."

"Bullshit, Edge. He pulled me straight out of the ring and dropped me on the floor."

"Well, I'm sure -"

"You don't need to defend him. He did it on purpose."

"Why would he do that, Christian?" Edge asked, not believing one word of what I was saying. He turned back to his travel bag.

"I don't know."

"Because there is no good reason," Edge explained. "He's trying to help us."

"Help us?" I asked in disbelief. "He's using us."

"What are you talking about?"

"He sees our potential, I'm sure - or at least yours - and is trying to ride that to help himself."

"I'm showing off my potential by laying on my back the whole time?"

"He's holding you back. He's holding **us**back."

"And I'm sure you think the Hardys would be better to learn from?"

"I'm not saying that they're better to learn from. I **am** saying that they beat us tonight." He finally stopped moving, his back still to me. He'd heard that. I crossed my arms over my chest in triumph.

"Fine, fine, learn from the Hardys. If you don't want to do that, go learn from that ancient Doc Hendrix. It makes no difference to me."

_Back so soon?_ I held my tounge and flashed an angry look at Gangrel.

Edge finally turned and protested more eagerly than he should have. "No, 'Grel, it's not that..."

_Speak for yourself._

"What is it, then? Are you not disciplined enough?" 'Grel raised a hand as if to strike Edge. Edge's eyes widened in surprised, like a deer frozen in headlights. Like hell I was going to let him do that.

"Hey - !" Before I could complete my thought and the vicious blow that was to accompany it, 'Grel had turned on me and beat me to it. I fell back, reeling and tasting blood in my mouth.

"Hey," Edge repeated, much more weakly than I had declared. Through my haze, I noticed that there was a look of abject concern on his face. He took a step towards me but 'Grel stopped him, violently jerking his arm.

"He deserved it. Do you agree?"

"'Grel, I..."

Oh, this was good. He really was trying to turn Edge against me. I looked to Edge, honestly afraid of what he might answer. Refusing to give Gangrel the pleasure of seeing me suffer, I stood up without rubbing my jaw and glared defiantly at Edge. Say it. No, I did not deserve that. Edge blinked in surprise, casting glances between 'Grel and me.

"Too long," 'Grel cut him off in a singsong voice as he finally opened his mouth to speak. In a flash, Gangrel had snatched up a chair and smashed it against Edge's left side.

"Hey!" I yelled again, almost feeling the chairshot myself. Not that it was necessary to, because, as I went to help Edge, Gangrel brought the chair down on my head. I fell back, again, blinking. Gangrel looked at the both of us with disgust, dropped the chair, and left again. After the initial shock, I looked over to Edge. He was likewise in a daze. Not so much from the pain, I assumed. He'd been through worse. This was some kind of confusion. I grimaced and put my hand to my forehead, not sure if the pain was worse from the punch, chairshot, or headache my dork chop brother was giving me for being so slow.

"You ok?" he asked after a minute.

I sighed. Edge was getting up and heading my way. When he reached out his hand, I took it and let him pick me up. "Do you believe me yet?"

Edge frowned. "Not now, Christian."

With that, he headed towards the showers.

"Then when, Edge?" I yelled, pissed off. He didn't respond, just vanished around the corner. "Edge? Goddammit!"


	3. [3/3]

This was getting really fucking obnoxious. I crossed and uncrossed my arms over my chest again and again as I watched the match backstage on a monitor. I don't know how this had happened, but Edge and Gangrel were in a match with Bossman and Mideon and I was backstage, watching helplessly on a **fucking monitor**. 'Grel did this, I know. He had somehow gotten Edge to ask me to stay back here. I sighed. Something felt wrong tonight. I watched on, helplessly, flinching for all of Edge's bumps and internally cheering for all 'Grel's.

Things were getting out of hand anymore. First, Gangrel had been attacking me. Fine, whatever. I could tolerate that. But Edge, who looked up to him so much... that was crossing the line. I wanted to tear him a new asshole for every time he laid a hand on my brother. But no. Edge wouldn't have any of it. He was convinced that he deserved to see stars whenever 'Grel got a little frustrated. After all, it was always his fault, wasn't it? And the neurotic little reekazoid never really seemed to react to 'Grel unmercifully beating his little brother. Weren't older brothers supposed to be protective?

"Christian?" a hesitant voice asked. I turned, still fuming and accidentally gave a death glare to the younger Hardy kid, Jeff. Instead of responding vocally, afraid that I might bite his head off for no reason, I gave him a look that indicated for him to continue. He cleared his throat. "Ah was, um, wonderin' if... if y'... Ah, uh..."

"What?"

Jeff blinked at me and I realized that might have been the first time he's ever heard me speak. He continued on, quickly. "Ah was wonderin' about Gangrel. Is he a good... uh, a good..."

"Good for nothing?" I growled. "Yes."

"Jeff!"

We both looked up at Doc Hendrix, who was gesturing, annoyed, for Jeff to stop talking to me and to follow him. Jeff bit his bottom lip, turned back to me, nodded, and smiled weakly. "Thanks."

I crossed my arms over my chest once more and watched him go. He lowered his head and walked silently behind Doc Hendrix, reminding me slightly of 'Grel and myself. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him that was rather short lived, then turned back to the match. Edge and 'Grel finally had the upper hand. There was a nearfall by Edge, but Bossman saved his partner. I gritted my teeth, angrily. If Edge and Gangrel lost, there was a good chance that 'Grel would do something unpleasant to Edge tonight. I un crossed and crossed my arms over my chest again, waiting. Diving clothesline by Edge. Good. Punch by Bossman. Not good. This continued for a little while longer, except the 'not good's started to outweigh the 'good's. Not good. Edge and 'Grel were looking tired. I considered going out and helping, but I decided against it. That would teach Edge to ask me to stay back. And if I stayed back here, I wouldn't be winded from fighting when it came time to protect Edge from 'Grel's irrational post match attacks. So I waited. Until the pin - which arrived shortly. And, yes, it was Edge getting pinned. I sighed. After a moment, Mideon and Bossman left, then 'Grel and Edge finally stumbled to their feet.

Ok, guys, come back. Let's get this over with.

I started to step away from the monitor to meet them at the curtain when they got back. My attention was detained, however, by 'Grel hitting the Impaler... on Edge. I froze, midstep. 'Grel got up and slid out of the ring, and I snapped out of my distraction and headed for the curtain at a run.

No, you are **not** giving Edge a Blood Bath! The monitor by the curtain showed 'Grel smirking as he went for the bucket. Forget going through the audience, I came down that ramp at full speed as the lights went out. I could only see through quick glimpses of light that fell sporadically through the arena, but I had a good idea about where Gangrel was and I came down hard with a forearm smash. Success. I grabbed his hair and clubbed him a few more times until he finally fell at my feet.

I slowed down for a moment to catch my breath, but I didn't stop. I turned, felt around for that bucket, dumped it out all over Gangrel, and, as a final statement, threw the bucket down at his prone body. With that, the lights came back on and I looked around, startled.

Wow, that felt so damn good, I almost forgot I was in an arena full of people. The people were cheering. That didn't concern me, however, as much as the fact that Edge was in the middle of the ring, slowly getting to his feet.

How would he react?

I slid into the ring and crossed to him, hesitantly. He looked at me blankly. I blinked, nervously, and took another step towards him. Without saying a word, he reached out and wrapped his arms around me, whispering in my ear, "Thanks, Chris."

I smiled and squeezed him back. "I hate it when you call me that."

We stood there in silence for a few blissful seconds that felt like an eternity before Edge informed me, "Everyone's watching us."

I stepped away from him, surprised, and looked at the audience. They were still cheering. Good. I looked to Edge, then we climbed out of the ring and walked to the back. Together. Without Gangrel.

Sure, Edge cast him one last glance from halfway up the ramp. But I set my hand on his shoulder and redirected his attention forward. It was time to leave him behind. 


End file.
